


Dying's Not That Easy Either

by everybodylies



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everybodylies/pseuds/everybodylies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House dies. "The bus is just the way he left it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dying's Not That Easy Either

**Author's Note:**

> So I was thinking about House when Passing Afternoon came on shuffle! Then I got really sad and this happened. I hope it makes sense.

"You're back."

The bus is just the way he left it: bright, clean, and empty, save for a cutthroat bitch.

"So it would seem." He's not in a hospital gown this time, but his regular jeans and t-shirt. His cane is nowhere to be found. It's okay, though. It's not like he needs it anyway. "Am I dead?"

"I'm afraid so." She gives him a sad smile. "All of this is just your dying mind hallucinating as it runs out of oxygen."

"Sympathy?" he scoffs. "From the bitch? Is it really you?"

"Hey, I've been there. It's scary."

"I'm not scared."

Tilting her head, she raises an eyebrow. "Of course not." She reaches her hands over her head, stretching, like she hasn't moved for a long time. "So what finally killed the great Dr. House in the end? I'm curious. Vicodin overdose? Motorcycle crash?"

He looks down. "I think it was boredom, really."

"That's not a diagnosis. Not one you would accept."

It was a lot of things: boredom, misery, pain, lack of Wilson, lack of puzzles, lack of Stacy, lack of Cuddy. But in the end, it was just a lot of boredom and apathy and dullness and he only had one mystery left that he hadn't yet solved.

"So you killed yourself," she guesses.

"More like self-sabotaged my liver until it finally gave out."

She starts off chuckling, but soon moves to laughter.

"You're a coward."

He doesn't object. He knows it's true. He's known it ever since his own hallucinating mind told him that in the burning building, ever since he relapsed onto Vicodin for the first time and Cuddy left, ever since he avoided his father's funeral as if his life depended on it, ever since he wouldn't let them cut off his leg.

He feels cold, all of a sudden. Everything's too bright, and he has to squint to see her face. "I'm scared," he tells her.

"Scared of what? You've known this was coming for a long time. Your entire life, in fact."

"What if I'm wrong?" He knows he sounds like a little kid, and she sighs impatiently.

"Well, no biggie. With all the lives you've saved, your karma's probably off the charts, and you'll end up in a better place with all the people you care about."

He takes a breath. "What if I'm right?" It doesn't hurt anymore, but reflexively he rubs his right thigh. "It'll be nothing. Nothing for all eternity. Forever."

"That's what you've chosen to believe." All the windows are closed, but there's a cold breeze starting up, and he shivers.

"I don't want to go," he says, shaking his head. "I just want to stay here."

She rolls her eyes and, voice full of contempt, she replies, "You really should know this by now." He closes his eyes. "You can't always get what you want." He knows this; he's said it, thought it, dreamed it, so many times it's embedded into his soul, branded onto his heart. Nevertheless, he wants a lot of things. He wants WIlson, he wants Cuddy, Stacy, the use of his leg back, his music, his _puzzles_.

"Well, here's the thing," she says and her tone is full of sympathy again, and he's always hated that, hated how dying changes everything, how dying makes everybody into pity-whores, how dying _happens_ , "you don't really have a choice here." He knows this, too. The last time he'd had a real choice was when he was laying in a hospital bed, girlfriend by his side, clot in his leg. Everything since then has just been the effect.

He grips the seat in front of him harder as the wind gusts past him. She places a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Think of it this way. That one mystery you've never known the answer to? That's kept you up a good deal of nights? Now you'll finally know the answer." House opens his eyes, and the light is so bright, he can barely see Amber next to him. She waves. "Have some fun, would ya?"

It all goes white.


End file.
